Home
by mikey magee
Summary: After the Siege of Lothal, Ezra contemplates what's next for him.


Ezra Bridger gazed out the window of Ghost, staring out into the endless void of Hyperspace. It hadn't quite yet dawned on him. He would never see Lothal again. He could never return home.

When he first joined the Ghost Crew, he knew it would lead to changes. Big changes. Good changes. Changes that would mold him into a different person. A Jedi.

But was leaving his home one of those changes as well? Never to taste the sandy air of Lothal? Never to gaze from his tower? And what of his tower? What of his town? Burned down until not even the faded memories could survive there. He knew the Empire was evil, but were there no limits to what they would stoop to?

"Hey kid."

Ezra was so lost in his thoughts, he didn't even hear (or feel for that matter) Kanan come up from behind him.

"Hey Kanan," Ezra said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. He wanted to take his sweltering thoughts and shove them out the airlock. He had learned on the streets of Lothal that regrets and sad memories were great ways to end up dead. "Crazy day right?"

Kanan placed his hand on Ezra's shoulder, "You don't have to hide how you feel kid. In fact…you kind of can't. I could feel you emoting all the way from the hanger."

Ezra winced at Kanan's words…and here he thought he was getting better at mental shielding. "Is it that obvious?"

"Yeah, a little." Kanan gently tugged at Ezra's sleeve and led him to their comms room. A make shift living room with a lumpy couch and a direct hallway to each of their rooms. Hera was in the pilot's seat, trying to map the best route. Zeb was napping somewhere when he should have been checking the blasters, and Sabine was most likely creating a new masterpiece. It was just Kanan and Ezra…and frankly, that's how Kanan wanted it to be. Ezra was never too big on sharing, especially when it came to sharing how he felt.

Kanan plopped down onto the couch, and gestured for Ezra to do the same. "Talk to me."

Ezra just shrugged. "Nothin' much to talk about."

Kanan just rolled his eyes. "Really? Come on Ezra, if you're going to lie, at least make it a good one. Even you don't believe that."

Ezra threw his hands up, "It's…I don't want to talk about it anytime soon."

Kanan hated when Ezra got like this. He had been training the kid long enough to know that Ezra's emotions were directly linked to his performance in battle. On Empire Day, Ezra became brash and angry and his fighting ability suffered. He even made contact with the side of the Force that he was never meant to. Ezra almost died, and Kanan wouldn't let that happen again. Not with this new Sith Lord out there, and morale at an all-time low. He couldn't let Ezra jeopardize himself again.

"Ezra, believe it or not, I know how you feel." Kanan softened his voice and leaned into his hands. When Kanan was young (the same age as Ezra) he too was forced from his home. He too saw his world crumble like a dirt clod beneath a Storm Trooper's heel. "When Order 66 happened I was forced from my home, I saw my Master murdered, and my entire way of life was destroyed." Kanan looked up to Ezra's eyes, "It broke me."

Kanan could feel Ezra's body shift on the couch. It always unnerved Kanan how much Ezra reminded him of himself. His old self. Full of energy. Full of questions. Dreaming of becoming a great Jedi. Kanan was Ezra's age when his world crumbled, but Ezra had been much younger. The boy lost his parents, his home, and his innocence far too early, but he had managed to survive…all alone. There was no way Kanan could have done what Ezra had. The boy had resilience, tenacity, and a creative mind that Kanan could only marvel at.

But Ezra was still a boy.

"So…what happened?" Ezra asked.

Kanan simply shrugged, "I couldn't go home anymore. I made my way hopping from planet to planet. Taking odd jobs and surviving." Kanan scratched his beard and stood up. "But just because you can't go back home, it doesn't mean you can't make a new one somewhere else."

Ezra cocked his eyebrow, "Is that a Jedi saying?"

Kanan gently smacked the back of Ezra's head, "No. It's just a little advice. I know you're missing Lothal, and I know you want to go back, and it's alright. Everyone on the Ghost understands. But don't let that images of a place blind you to what an actual home is."

An actual home…

And it was a strange thing to contemplate. Warm nights on a Lothal street, replaced with long conversations with Hera over warm milk (because Hera told him he wasn't old enough to drink caff). Clear skies under a Lothal sun, replaced with gazing at Sabine's portraits after a long day cleaning. Stealing rusty parts in hopes of selling them, replaced with tuning up Chopper's parts in hopes he'd run better. Street fights at dusk replaced with pranks wars with Zeb. And long nights sleeping in his tower, replaced with Jedi stories from Kanan's lips.

Home…what exactly did that mean?

"You want some caff?" Kanan asked as he made his way to the kitchen.

Ezra laughed, "Hera says I'm not old enough to drink that."

Kanan rolled his eyes. He took out two mugs, and filled them both with caff. "Well, we just won't tell her." He returned to the couch and handed Ezra his mug.

"You wanna tell me another Jedi story?" Ezra asked, "It's been a long time since your last one."

"Ezra, it's only been one day since my last Jedi story. How is that a while?"

Ezra just grinned and pleaded, "Pleeease?"

Kanan placed his mug down and shrugged, "Alright fine." He snapped his fingers, "This is a pretty good one. It was how my master taught me Form 3. It started like this…"

Ezra sipped his mug, and listened to his master speak. He would never be able to return to Lothal…but, perhaps that wasn't so bad. The Ghost hummed with the essence of its crew, lively, quiet, and cozy. There was no need to return home because, in truth, he had never left it.


End file.
